...thunderstorms.
But the day began nicely, with a lovely stroll through a sprawling, northern park called Villa Borghese. It was a beautiful, lush, hilly landscape of evergreen trees, blossoming flowers, and ancient ruins.
I stumbled upon this excellent ancient bath sitting proudly in the middle of a field:
After my exhausted limbs begged me to walk back down the hill to Piazza del Popolo, at the entrance of the park, I strolled towards town and stumbled upon two Roman flea markets. They were feasts for the eyes and I was stunned when I saw the star of David patch on one of the seller's tables.
I then wandered over to Trastevere (or "across the Tiber"), a quaint Roman village of cobblestone streets and narrow alleyways. I had a delicious pizza - much better than the previous day's - and decided to hike up a towering hill I'd spied on my way over.
The wind began to blow sand and grit into my eyes and my hair around my face as I walked up the winding slope, but the views were breathtaking as I hopped up on a ledge and eagerly snapped photos of this city I had come to adore in three short days.
As soon as the fog had crept in to distort any distant landscapes the view could offer my camera, rain clouds thundered overhead and the sky broke to shed millions of raindrops over me. My tiny umbrella, bare legs, and ripped converse were soon soaked through. Standing beneath a frail tree, an elderly Roman man pulled up in his car beside me, motioning for me to get in.
I know I shouldn't get in strangers' cars, except I was soaked and freezing and he looked friendly and older than seventy-five.
A game of guess-the-language ensued, followed by a long and awkward silence as I spoke no Italian and he no English. Eventually, he drove me further up the hill to a bus stop I didn't recognize, so I ended up having to walk further down the hill, where I ducked into a restaurant for a coffee and wifi. On may way back to the centre of town, I managed to get caught in a church choir performance type thing for the Pope's visit. Crazy times.
Needless to say, my second-to-last day in Rome ended here, and I made my way back to the campsite thoroughly soaked to find my tent had flooded. Not only that, but on the way home I trekked through the downpour to my favourite pasta shop, which was closed. AARRGH.
On the morning of my last day in Rome, I hiked up Aventine Hill in the serendipitous sunshine, and stepped inside Saint Sabine's Basilica, circa 422 AD.
My shuttle bus to the airport came with a free aneurysm as I waited for a boarding pass for the three o'clock bus, to overhear that the next bus was at five (my flight was departing at six-thirty). I had a mild panic attack before the guy behind the counter noticed that I already had a ticket, and handed me a boarding pass, all blase.
I made it to the airport early as per usual, and the journey home went very smoothly.
I was happy to be home in the comfort of my Paris, for the last two weeks in a city I had made my own. Visiting is nice, but so is having a proper bed with your own blankets, and a warm cup of tea in the morning.
Love always,
Coral
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